


In every swift gliding car

by theseatheseatheopensea



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by Music, Prayer, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseatheseatheopensea/pseuds/theseatheseatheopensea
Summary: Go back,she says.Go back home with these gifts. You have the strength. You have the knife.You have the key.A modern prayer for Hecate.





	In every swift gliding car

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bardsley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bardsley/gifts).



> Title taken from Seneca's [Medea](https://www.theoi.com/Text/SenecaMedea.html). 
> 
> Inspiration taken from Kate Bush's [Jig of life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qUP2FZmKGXw), which has always sounded like a very Hecate-ish song to me! :)

Sometimes, she dreams of fire. She dreams of iron. She dreams of the sky, wild and alive. She is up there, among hundreds and thousands and millions of stars.

She is made of midnight, made of stone. She hides in the margins, along the edges. She is hard to find and hard to catch. She is almost invisible, almost not there.

She is the shadow and she is the flame. She crosses the thresholds and the mirrors. She is past, present and future. She is sky, earth and sea. Far away and close, she is everywhere and nowhere. She is all the spaces in between.

She is the beginning. She is the end. She is the beginning, again. 

She is every second, every minute of every hour. She is every single day. And she walks every night, every wild night. She look in every direction, and she is _there_ , with the white trees and the black dogs. Running. Always running.

They know. And they come to see her. They know that she works her magic from afar, but still they come. They walk the sacred road. They hope to see her, bright eyes and hope and fire. They want to see that small miracle in her skin. Somehow, they know her wild face.

They wait here, where time lingers and flickers like light. When the moon goes dark, they bring their gifts to Lagina. They bring their pleas. They bring their sadness. _Let me live,_ they say. _Don't let me go. Don't say goodbye._

Life has hurt them. They know that there are flowers, but also thorns. But they will keep on fighting. They won't give up. They won't give up, they say.

Tender-hearted, jewelled Hecate, three times invoked. Three times _seen_. She is the fire. She is the wind. She is the light. Her heart walks out to meet them, and she answers every prayer. She puts the moments there.

_Where have you been? Where are you going? Where will you go now?_

She speaks. And she listens. Her hands are bold, but friendly and kind. They come to see her, and she is touched. _Go back,_ she says. _Go back home with these gifts. You have the strength. You have the knife._

_You have the key._

The world is not empty now, there is wisdom and time and infinity in her eyes. This is her mystery: there are thorns, but also flowers. Spit out the poison. Spit out the poison and _live_.

_Good luck, sailors. Good luck, travellers. Good luck, young ones. Don't look back. The wind is wild, the sea is wild, but don't look back. Go out to meet me. The paths will cross, and I will be there. I will not hide. Go outside and dance and laugh and love. Go out, and travel the world. Look for me at the side of the road. I will be there. I will carry the flame. And I won't say goodbye._

She is everywhere now. She is one with the ocean, she is a kiss in the wind. They pray to her, and she writes messages and memories in the palm of their hands. Yes, she puts the moments _there_.

Sometimes, the world isn't kind. But she won't forget them. They won't be alone anymore. Wild and real, she will be there, with them. She can see forever, and she knows that the sadness will fade. She will make it so.

 _Let go, let go,_ she says. She is the spell and she is the earth. She is the holy love in the water. She is the faith that tears down the walls. She will always be at the crossroads, in every swift gliding car. She will always be at the doorways, with the evening sun. She is the future. Try to catch her now. She is always waiting. Always there.


End file.
